Again
by corneroffandom
Summary: An unforeseen consequence comes from Alberto's determination to be the new Apex Predator


Alberto Del Rio grimaces as the trainer checks his back carefully, hands trailing up and down his spine while he checks to make sure the various rough landings he'd taken in catering earlier hadn't done any serious damage to him. Despite it all, his mind is barely on his own injuries, eyes traveling over to where Ricardo Rodriguez lay with his eyes closed, breathing in and out slowly. "How is he?" he mumbles, huffing as his ring announcer's screams from earlier after first the coffee and then chili had been thrown at and spilled all over him echoes in his ears. He had briefly touched the coffee pot while looking for a weapon, his fingers still raw and painful even now. He's not sure how hot the chili'd been, but he doesn't even want to imagine how Ricardo must be feeling.

The trainer hesitates, peering over his shoulder at his other patient before releasing a vague breath. "The coffee caused minor burns along his arm and hands," he says, fingers finding a bruise on the middle of Del Rio's back and apologizing lowly as he hisses and grumbles, arching away from his touch. "His tuxedo thankfully protected him from most of it. But the chili... it wasn't _as_ hot as the coffee, but enough. He has more first and second degree burns along his scalp, forehead and nose."

Alberto winces, not at the trainer's touch, but at the prospect of what burns in those places could mean. "His eyes?" he asks after a few moments, feeling jittery and uncomfortable. After all it had only been a few months ago that Heath Slater had somehow been blinded temporarily by Santino Marella's cobra, of all things, and Ricardo had helped him find his way around afterwards, explaining the situation to Del Rio later. To think of Ricardo being in a similar state makes him feel ill and a little panicked.

"As a precaution, I've advised him to rest them currently and I'll be bandaging them once I'm done here. I rinsed them out with milk to neutralize the chili that spilled into his eyes, but they're going to be inflamed and painful for awhile. His vision should be alright, but I want him to take it easy, especially with the burns so close to that area. I'll be telling you what to watch out for, in case the burns should become infected. His bandages will need to be changed daily, and all goes well, I might be able to remove them completely before Raw on Monday. We'll have to wait and see, is all."

Del Rio nods as the trainer turns his attention to his own hands, examining the severity of the burns from where he'd touched the coffee pot, which had been all the inspiration that perro Orton had needed to lift it up and sling it at them, Ricardo unfortunately taking most of the damage. He had seen a recap of the moment, had seen how badly Ricardo's hands had shook as he'd leaned against the table, begging Orton to stop, before the chili had been poured ruthlessly down his face and body.

The tux had been completely stained and he doubts there's much to be done for it now, but he doesn't really care about that. Items, after all, are easily replaceable... He glances towards a still resting Ricardo and grimaces as the trainer finishes up with him, putting some gauze on his palms before standing up and moving over to Ricardo, more of the gauze in hand. He's not sure what exactly is said between the two but finally his ring announcer sits up, fumbling around blindly as the trainer unwinds the material and carefully begins looping it around Ricardo's skull to keep him from aggravating the wounds around his eyes, especially in his sleep.

Del Rio sighs and makes it to his feet, body protesting most movements as he is reminded of all the damage he suffered due to Orton, not to mention the match he'd had prior. Making it to Ricardo's side, he rests a hand on his shoulder and squeezes carefully, half-smiling as the ring announcer leans into his touch, relaxing immediately as the fluttering of his hands cease.

"El Patron?" he asks lowly, the desperation in his voice tugging at Del Rio slightly.

"Si, amigo, I'm here." He watches for a few moments as the trainer finishes with the gauze, gingerly bandaging it into place. "How do you feel?"

"Alright," he says faintly, trying to sound normal. But the quiver in his voice, nonstop trembling of his hands gives him away and Del Rio reaches out, carefully turning his hand over to see how the gauze wraps across his skin, covering the burns from the thankfully small portion of the liquid that the tux hadn't shielded him from. "How are you?"

"I am fine, just sore." He watches, blinking now and again as Ricardo reaches out and blindly brushes his own fingers across Alberto's, feeling his own bandages. "It's not bad. You were burnt worse." He smiles faintly as the ring announcer relaxes once more at this information, obviously off-balanced physically and emotionally with the loss of his sight. "Trainer says they will look into removing those bandages by Monday, so you can see again."

"What if-?" Ricardo hesitates, licking his lips as he tilts his head away from Alberto's worried gaze. "What if I can't?"

Waving this worry away, Alberto freezes when he remembers that his ring announcer can't see his actions. "Don't worry about that," he says calmly, moving his hand to rest on Ricardo's shoulder. "The trainer says things will be ok... And I'm here to make sure of that."

"Gracias," he murmurs as the trainer finally finishes working on him, his eyes completely covered now. "I don't know..." He lifts a hand sheepishly and tries to touch his face, but Alberto stops him, holding onto his wrist. "El Patron..."

"Yes?"

"What are we going to do in the meantime?"

"This is not the time to dwell on that, just rest and recover. We'll figure it out in the morning, hm?"

Ricardo looks like he wants to say something else, his mouth opening and closing a few times, before the fight eases out of him and he sighs heavily. "Si. Very well, El Patron."

Alberto listens intently to the trainer's directions for the care of both his hand and Ricardo's face before helping his ring announcer to his feet. "Come, mi amigo. Let's go, hm?"

"Alright," he agrees faintly, face scrunching up uncertainly beneath the pile of gauze covering his eyes. "I... um..." He reaches out slightly, trying to snag the trainer's arm. "I need help to the car," he's just spat out, obviously disgusted with the words, needing to ask for any kind of help, when warm fingers grip his, squeezing slightly. He freezes immediately, head turning in the direction he thinks Alberto is at.

"Allow me," he says softly, easing Ricardo's hand to press against his shoulder before sliding it down against his upper bicep, urging Ricardo to curl his fingers around him. "Alright?"

"I... I... if you're sure," he murmurs, skin flushing beneath the stark white bandages covering his eyes and part of his nose.

"I am," he reinforces, squeezing Ricardo's fingers as he waits for the younger man to get to his feet so they can prepare to leave. "If you feel strange at all- pain, dizzy, anything- you say so, understand?"

"Si, I will." It's awkward, despite all of Ricardo's various injuries over the years, having to depend on Alberto so thoroughly like this. Even when it'd been his back, or his neck or whatever else causing him to require assistance, he'd never been without full control of all of his senses before. He feels like he's going to lose his balance a thousand times between here and the car, but Del Rio keeps a solid grip on him, helping him to avert any of the many hazardous things scattered around the hallway, and he's so grateful.

"Alright, Ricardo?" Alberto asks quietly, voice close to his ear and Ricardo flinches in surprise, blinking beneath the bandages wrapped around his eyes. He then feels as his employer tenses next to him, his fingers pressing against Ricardo's chest. "Did I startle you? Lo siento."

"Is fine," he sighs out. "I just... didn't realize you were that close. I think... I'm just jumpy after earlier." He pauses and sighs, half-smiling. "Though I suppose after so long in this job, I'm always jumpy."

Alberto smiles sadly. "This is true, I believe we all are honestly. But don't worry, I'm here and you're going to be fine."

"I know, El Patron." The pure trust in his voice eats at Alberto as they leave the arena, the Mexican aristocrat watching to make sure he gets inside of the car safely.

Once that's done, he stands outside of the vehicle for a moment and tries to collect himself. Ricardo had been hurt to varying degrees disturbingly often in his time as Del Rio's ring announcer, but the past few months- between the neck injury, and now this... it all just seems so much worse, so regular. He sighs heavily and rubs his chilled hands together as he finally slips into the driver's seat, glancing over to find Ricardo turned in his direction. "Ready to go?"

"Yes." He doesn't move the whole car ride back to the hotel, his hands pressed tightly together in his lap as he worries his lip with his teeth. He only reacts when Alberto reaches over and clicks his seatbelt in place for him, spending the rest of the car ride in quiet thought. "Gracias."

Alberto nods until he realizes that Ricardo can't see it. He sighs heavily and rests a hand on Ricardo's shoulder before getting out of the car to help him to the hotel, his eyes dark with sadness for his ring announcer. _This can't be permanent... It just can't be._

Fans are scattered around, as always, waiting for the superstars' arrival and they almost rush towards Ricardo and Alberto for the usual pictures and autographs until they see the bandages on Ricardo's face, the expression on Alberto's. They quickly back away and watch, subdued, as the two men slowly make their way to the elevator until they disappear from view. If it wasn't such a solemn situation, Alberto would almost consider doing that again in the future to dissuade them, but he'd never want to relive the horror behind this moment.

Even blind, Ricardo notes it as well and he's almost smiling through the pain, disoriented and confused by the change in pressure around them as they head up the building to their room. "Well, that was a first," he says quietly.

Del Rio's chuckle is the best sound that Ricardo's heard for awhile and he reaches out, clinging to his sleeve for a second before releasing him, lips parting sheepishly. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. I, just... lo siento. I'm a little disoriented. I don't know..." He fumbles around, finding a nearby wall and pressing his hand to it as if to ground himself by it. "This is going to take some getting used to."

"Hopefully you won't have to," Del Rio mumbles, shaking his head sadly as he watches Ricardo try to figure out where in the elevator exactly he's at.

"Si." Ricardo says nothing more, turning his head towards the sound of Alberto's voice and releasing a soft breath. When the elevator arrives on their floor, he takes a few hesitant steps before finding the soft carpet of the hallway, easing his way down towards their room. Alberto watches for a little bit, trying to grant him the freedom to figure this out on his own, but when he starts to lean to the left, about to walk into a table, he quickly intercedes, resting both hands on Ricardo's shoulders to stop him. "What is it, El Patron?"

"There's a table there," he says quietly, redirecting him to the middle of the path and guiding him a few more steps before he thinks he'll be alright walking in a straight line, removing his grip on his shoulders. And if not, he's close enough that he can help again.

"Oh." The ring announcer seems sheepish at this, trying to feel around him with his hands as he continues on down the hallway. "Are we close?"

"Yes, just a little further." Alberto sighs, trying to consider a life permanently like this- and not finding himself able to. _It can't last,_ he reminds himself. _The trainer will take the bandages off on Monday and he will be fine, life will return to normal._

Once they arrive at the hotel room, Alberto unlocks the door and helps Ricardo inside. "Don't move, I have to find the light." He feels around, fumbling in the darkness, and comes to a sudden stop as he realizes this is something close to what it's like for Ricardo right now, that the lack of light really is inconsequential to the poor man in this moment. Releasing a heavy breath, he resumes his search and finally finds the switch, flicking it until the room is lit up well enough for him to see. "Alright." Turning back to Ricardo, he smiles dejectedly and returns to his side. "The bags are out of your way, there's a clear shot to the bed for you from here."

"Gracias," the younger man murmurs, feeling around carefully as he makes his way uncertainly to the bed. As he hesitantly sits down and toes his shoes off, Alberto watches him with a grim frown, leaning over to move them out of the walking path so if he should get up during the night, he won't trip or hurt himself further. "El Patron?"

"Yes?"

"What are we going to do this weekend?" He can't see it but he can feel as Alberto peers at him, obviously weighing his answer to this.

"Rest," is all he says, almost smiling at the surprised look on the visible parts of his friend's face. "And recuperate. I do not want you risking your health any further, mi amigo."

Ricardo sighs, his hands fluttering in his lap. "Gracias, El Patron. Rest sounds... nice."

"I'm glad," Alberto says, the smile on his face obvious in his voice. Ricardo smiles too.

Saturday passes by slowly, Ricardo visibly trying not to fret too much as they sit and watch- or listen- to TV. Alberto quickly grows bored of the horrible shows that air on the weekend, and, after unable to think of anything else for both of them to do, offers to read aloud to him from one of the books that he'd been in the process of reading before his injury. Despite some visible hesitation and surprise, the ring announcer ultimately agrees to the offer. Darkness mixed in with the even cadence of Alberto's voice eventually causes Ricardo to doze off, his head coming to rest on Alberto's shoulder, and the older man stops mid-sentence, startled. Realizing that he's asleep, his lips twitch into a smile and he marks where they were at in the book, in case Ricardo should want to go back to it, and simply sits there for a bit, listening to the steady breaths of his ring announcer.

When Ricardo wakes up, he's confused and shaking harshly, flashes of a nightmare teasing along the edge of his memory. Darkness is overwhelming him and he feels like he can barely breathe, his hands batting at his face and unable to get rid of the horribly thick fabric covering his forehead. His voice fails him and he struggles so fiercely that the next thing he knows, he's falling onto the floor, gasping in pain. _Help,_ he thinks desperately, still trying to claw at the bandages and- _wait. Bandages..._ Memories slowly coming back to him, he pants and struggles as tears soak the cloth around his eyes. "El Patron," he finally keens, knowing by just how quiet the room is that the man's not there but able to ground himself a little just by focusing on those two words. "El Patron." Growing a bit more steady, aware, he presses a hand to the couch and is in the process of forcing himself back up against the cushions when he hears the door click behind him, a soft beeping sound as it's unlocked. Nothing to be done for it, he reluctantly turns towards the sound, wincing as he waits for the inevitable explosion when Del Rio spots him in such a condition.

Sure enough, the door is pushed inwards and he tracks the footsteps as Alberto enters, mumbling under his breath in faint Spanish before- "Ricardo?!" He drops something onto the floor thoughtlessly and rushes over to the younger man, hands gripping his shoulders before the ring announcer can even fully wrap his head around everything. "Que?! What happened?"

Relieved as Alberto eases him back onto the couch, he reaches out and clings to his employer's dress jacket, soothed by the familiar fabric under his fingers. "I- it, eh." He groans, a little embarrassed at having to admit this. "I had a nightmare, I think. I woke up and I couldn't see, and... I fell off of the couch." Silence follows this and he blushes harder. "El Patron, lo siento, I-"

"No, no, no apologies," he mumbles, finally beginning to move as his fingers brush against Ricardo's arms. "Are you... does anything, eh, _new_ hurt?" he questions after a moment, voice dull as he considers just how ridiculous their lives are that he has to even think of how best to _ask_ such a question. That circumstances leave the younger man vulnerable to injury so often, mostly thanks to him.

"No," he breathes. "I'm ok." He is a little sore but it's nothing serious so he keeps it to himself, allowing Alberto a cursory check anyway as he helps the man to his feet and, forgetting the couch, leads him to the bed, fingers grazing down his arms and across his back as he feels for any other injuries, listens for any changes in Ricardo's breathing or his step. "I'm fine, El Patron," he insists quietly once he's settled back in among the pillows and blankets. Del Rio says precious little to this, sitting next to Ricardo on the bed and adjusting the covers around him. Hating that he can't see his employer, try to deduce his true emotions by the look on his face, he finally swallows and whispers, "Did you drop something? At the door?"

There's a soft "oh" and the bed shifts as Alberto stands back up and approaches whatever he'd forgotten about after finding his ring announcer on the floor, Ricardo following his movements with a curious ear. Finally Del Rio returns and settles something in Ricardo's lap, his hands immediately going to it. "I brought back something to eat." He sounds a little frustrated but helps Ricardo to open the bag, and then one of the styrofoam containers.

Trying to think about breakfast that morning had been torture. Ricardo wasn't sure what to order, knowing that not being able to see if he'd get the food to his mouth cleanly would be beyond embarrassing, asking his employer for help _again_ somehow beyond him. More focused on Alberto's pride than his own, he couldn't even _think_ of the idea without feeling mortified. But Del Rio had clearly been thinking about this as well, because when he'd set a plate down by the ring announcer, he'd taken his hands and rested them atop the still warm food, the smile on his face evident as he explained, "Mini quiches, mi amigo. There's also potato wedges, and sausages."

It hadn't taken long for the ring announcer to realize: all could work as finger foods, things he could handle easily enough without utensils. He'd smiled, all of his cluttered thoughts easing briefly as he felt around the plate, memorizing the placement of the food. "Gracias, El Patron." He'd chuckled as Del Rio ruffled his hair in response before they both began to eat in silent companionship.

Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he looks uncomfortably over at Alberto, worried by his lingering silence that the food had been ruined in the fall, certain it was more utensil-free foods. "Is it alright?"

"Si, it's fine." Ricardo can feel his eyes on him and frowns in confusion as his employer sighs. "We have to change your gauze. It's wet." As he walks off again, the ring announcer flushes in humilation and horror, reaching up to find that, yes, he'd cried hard enough to make the fabric cling to his skin. "What was your nightmare about?"

He can only remember bits of it, the more time passes the more it fades from his memory, but that's more than enough to leave him feeling generally uneasy. When Alberto returns, he barely flinches as the gauze is slowly unwrapped from around his eyes. "I... think I was... lost. I couldn't find my way out, and..." He shakes his head and releases a deep breath. "When I woke up, everything was so dark and quiet, I freaked out."

Del Rio's hands slow on his face and he sighs. "Lo siento, I should've waited to leave until you were awake." As he finishes undoing the old gauze, preparing to put new on, he taps Ricardo's jaw, remembering the trainer's directions. "Keep your eyes closed."

Ricardo reluctantly follows his instructions, despite his desperation to know if his vision _is_ ok or not, waiting until he finishes taping it back down to reach out and snag his sleeve. "How... how did it look?"

There hadn't been a lot of change in the last 24 hours, his skin still raw and a bit enflamed in places, but Del Rio barely hesitates as he pats the hand clinging to him, understanding on a new level- based on the description of that dream alone- just how freaked out his friend is. "A bit better, si. A bit better. Now eat, hm?"

Ricardo nods, taking a deep breath to calm down. "Si, El Patron."

The next morning, Del Rio is pulled from a restless sleep as there's a quiet knock on their door, his sleep-heavy eyes shooting open. He grumbles and glances over at Ricardo, finding that he's beginning to stir too. Stumbling to his feet then over to the door, he peers out of the peekhole before groaning, resting his forehead briefly against the cool wood separating him from their early morning visitor. "What do you want?" he demands upon opening the door, stopping short when he realizes it's not just Wade Barrett standing in front of his room, but also Heath Slater. "Ay Dios Mio, what?"

The two men swap places, Heath not wavering as he peers at Del Rio. "Hey, er, we heard what happened to Ricardo."

Running his hands through his hair, Alberto squints at him with derision. "I'm sure the whole locker room is enjoying themselves immensely over it by now. What do you _want?_"

Heath pauses only briefly, glancing over his shoulder at Barrett before facing the Mexican aristocrat again. "To help. If we can." He clears his throat. "See, when I was... briefly blinded last year, Ricardo helped me out and... I thought, maybe, if he needed anything- someone to talk to, who's been through it, you know."

Even while still half-asleep, Del Rio has to admit the idea sounds sensible on some level. Even if it is Slater. He then glances over at Barrett. "You babysitting him now?" he wonders even as he steps aside to allow them inside. His curiosity grows when Slater enters but Wade remains outside, crossing his arms over his chest. "What?"

"Rodriguez may not be the only one needing to talk," he says grimly, looking as if he can't quite believe he's making this offer either. "I was the unlucky one who had to deal with Slater in the midst of his crisis, so..."

Alberto glances over his shoulder as Heath approaches a groggy Ricardo, the ring announcer looking uncertain as the leader of 3MB sits down on the bed next to him, giving him a minute to wake up as he reaches over and snags the bottle of water on the side table, passing it over to him. Ricardo visibly relaxes at this and sips at it as Heath leans closer and nudges him, saying something that makes him chuckle a little. Growing slightly less paranoid about this visit upon witnessing this, Del Rio turns back to the bareknuckle brawler and inches into the hallway, closing the door partially behind him. "Fine then," he snaps, finally giving in fully to his worry for the first time since this had all began. "What do I do if this ends up being permanent, tell me that? How do I help him?"

Ricardo's humor caused by Heath's utter ridiculousness fading away quickly, the ring announcer sighs, picking at the wrapper around his bottle. "I don't know how you handled this for almost a week," he finally admits, reaching up to brush against his cheeks just below the gauze, wincing as his injuries shift under the restraining tape at his touch.

Heath sighs too and reaches out, snagging his nervously fluttering hands and bringing them back down gently. "Wade helped, more than anyone, includin' myself at the time, prolly realized."

"He was injured at the time, right?"

"Yep. Dislocated elbow, waitin' on surgery. I'd offered to help 'im before that whole cobra crap happened, then once I was blinded, well... We ended up helpin' each other through it all." The two men fall quiet for a bit before Heath taps Ricardo's knuckles. "But hey, the trainer's already said your vision should be fine and all of this is just a precaution, right? So that's a good thing."

Ricardo nods shortly, his chin tilted down. "I, I know..."

"But you're not going to believe it until you see it for yourself, right?" Heath's eyes soften as Ricardo's hands tremble beneath his. "Hey, no tears, it's not good for the gauze, yeah?" He shifts closer and wraps an arm around the ring announcer's slumped shoulders, sighing. "I honestly can't remember if I ever thanked you for helping me when I was goin' through this..."

"You did," he murmurs.

"Yeah? Well, that's something at least. But it bears repeatin', Ricardo. Thank you for helping me back then, and if you need anything at all now, lemme know, huh? I have no doubt that you'll get the gauze off tomorrow and everything'll be fine and normal again, but in case."

"You really think so?" he asks, stuck on the confidence in Heath's words that, in the end, his vision would be fine.

"'Course! If I can get my sight back, there's no reason you shouldn't too."

Ricardo smiles faintly. "Gracias."

Out in the hall, Barrett stares at Del Rio, not used to this side of him- worried, shaken, _human._ He'd hidden his many worries for Slater as best he could behind a mask of stoicism, doing what needed to be done to get them both through those days, just for the reward being that the younger man got his vision back with no lingering issues in time to assist him through a longer recovery period post-surgery than anyone had expected. Staying strong had been easy enough, he'd been leader of both Nexus and the Corre long enough to accept that sometimes people just have to soldier through no matter what life may throw at them, but Del Rio... for him, it's different.

Unused to things, situations that money alone can't fix, he's visibly floundering through all of this and Barrett wonders how much of it Ricardo's noticed. "You keep in mind that worst case scenarios and dwelling on them will do neither of you any good," he tells him. "The trainer himself said that it's temporary, yes? So pass the time, occupy yourselves as well as you can until tomorrow, and then if it's permanent, deal with it. Until then worrying about the unknown will get you nowhere. If Rodriguez is anything like Slater, he needs distraction, he needs you to be assured in his recovery because more likely than not, he's stuck wondering what if the darkness is all he's going to see from now on."

Alberto looks stricken at this, remembering how pale and shaky Ricardo had looked after his nightmare the night before, and he runs his hands across his face. "Ay..."

Wade tilts his head, sighing. "I remember once, I caught Heath trying to memorize my apartment by feel. Those people who count steps to figure out where they're at in a room, I think he was about to start trying that sort of thing when the gauze was finally taken off and he realized he _could_ see again. But when I spotted him doing that, it... left me feeling so helpless, and worried for him. You look at a loud, obnoxious guy like Slater and you can't even imagine how losing something like that diminishes them, you know?" Del Rio nods and the Brit shifts. "I don't know Rodriguez well, but I'd say how _you_ handle whatever the trainer says will determine how _he_ reacts to it."

"So what do I do?"

"Just be supportive, patient. It might end up being nothing, and he'll be able to see fine once the gauze is gone. But there's also a chance it'll go badly. And he'll need you then." Alberto nods, pondering these words, if he could be patient enough to be there for Ricardo in the ways he'd need should his eyesight be effected permanently, if what they'd been going through the past couple of days could be forever for the younger man. Wade doesn't say anything if he notices the doubts in Del Rio's eyes, just turns to the door. "Better go see what those two are doing, make sure Heath hasn't gotten into any trouble. It's worrisome when he's been quiet this long."

"Bit like a toddler, hm?"

"A little, yes." Alberto chuckles faintly, unlocking the door, and the two men stand on opposite sides of the doorframe, looking in at the two younger men as Heath messes around with Ricardo's iPad, reading off tweets to him.

"You follow some weird accounts, man. All this stuff about souls and realms and psychology and stuff," he says, sounding a little floored. Ricardo just grins, leaning closer and nudging him. "Ok, ok, umm..." He scrolls through some more when Wade clears his throat, both men jerking in surprise. "Oh, hey, Barrett. Done whispering in the hallway, are we?" he smirks.

Wade rolls his eyes. "Are you done annoying Rodriguez yet? Put the toy down, Slater. I'm ready to go."

"Fine, fine. Impatient Brit..." He sighs and puts the device down on the bedside table before turning back to Ricardo. "Hey, man, seriously, good luck tomorrow. I'm sure things'll go great, you let me know, ok?"

"Si, I will, Heath. Thank you." He feels around, standing from the bed awkwardly as the ginger gets up and lazily wanders towards the door, purposely walking slowly to annoy Wade further. Alberto joins him, resting a hand on his upper arm so he knows he's there, and watches as Wade shuts the door behind himself and Heath, turning to look at his ring announcer once they're alone. "El Patron?"

"Si, Ricardo?"

"Do you think he's right? Everything'll... be ok?"

"Of course," Alberto says, smiling sadly as he takes in the uncertainty in the visible parts of his friend's face, how anxiously his fingers twist together as he sits back against the bed, taking in a deep breath. "Everything will be fine, Ricardo. I promise." _One way or another..._

After another long day of nothing TV and strained conversation that culminates with Alberto trying to continue what Heath had started, reading more tweets off to Ricardo so he feels a little more in the loop with things happening on his timeline, RT'ing some of what the younger man had asked him to, and favoriting others, they both go to bed early. Sleep may avoid them but somehow laying in bed pretending that they're about to doze off at any time makes it feel like the next day- and Ricardo's follow up with the trainer- is only a short ways away.

"El Patron?"

Unsurprised that his ring announcer sounds as wide awake as he feels, Alberto sighs and turns to look at him through the darkness, careful with his own burnt flesh and how it rests against the bedding. "Si, amigo?"

"What _will_ we do if this is permanent?" He sounds so young and scared, especially in the darkness, that Del Rio can't stand it, freeing himself from his own sheets before walking over to his best friend's side. "El Patron?"

He sits next to Ricardo and pats him on the arm, forcing a smile just to realize with a fresh pang that Ricardo can't see it, the attempt at comfort in his expression meaningless. "We will do what we always do, mi amigo. I trust you blind more than I would ever trust anyone else with all five senses." He knows it's a weird thing to say, afraid as the younger man says absolutely nothing that he's misspoke, hurt him with his abrupt words, but when he looks closer he sees a small smile growing on Ricardo's slightly trembling lips. "Are you alright?"

"Ye- yes," he murmurs, sniffing softly. "Gracias. I just didn't expect that answer."

He smiles grimly and squeezes his friend's shoulder. "It's the truth, mi amigo. Now relax, get some sleep. We'll know all we need to in a few short hours." He watches as Ricardo nods, a soft sigh pouring from his lips as he follows Alberto's commands, the tension slowly easing from his body as he dozes off. Alberto watches for a few more moments before returning to his own bed, staring up at the ceiling. _I hope everything goes well tomorrow..._

The next morning dawns sooner than Del Rio had necessarily wanted, the sun gleaming right into his eyes, and he grunts, shielding his vision from the blinding light- immediately freezing as he looks over at his still sleeping friend. Ricardo can't see the sun, hasn't been able to for days, and he closes his eyes, shaking his head bitterly. _Por favor,_ he thinks. _He has to be alright. I can't stand to see him like this much longer..._ Laying there for a few moments longer, trying to ease his thoughts and fears, he slowly stands up and sits next to Ricardo, resting a hand on his shoulder as he had the night before. "Ricardo, mi amigo. It's time to get up. We have to see the trainer shortly."

He wakes up slowly and turns his face towards his employer, nodding slightly. "Si, El Patron. Alright." He sits up groggily and wipes at his mouth, yawning. As Alberto helps him untangle himself from the bedding and stand, he nods his thanks and wanders towards the bathroom, carefully trailing his fingers along the furniture on the way. He leans against the closed bathroom door and sighs, his thoughts echoing Alberto's: _This can't last..._

When they arrive at the arena, the trainer is waiting for them, Del Rio having called him while Ricardo was in the bathroom, demanding he drop everything and be ready for them. He doesn't seem too pleased with this but says very little beyond greeting them coolly and leading the uncertain ring announcer through the halls to his office, Alberto's arm warm and secure across his shoulders. "Sit over there," he guides Ricardo away from Del Rio, settling him down on the cot. "How have you been feeling?" he asks inanely as he pulls a pair of gloves on and prepares to cut away the gauze and tape covering the young man's eyes.

Ricardo takes a breath. "Um, my face and hands itch sometimes," he admits. "The burns, I think... does that mean they're healing?"

"Mm hmm, sounds like it," the trainer tells him quietly. "Now don't move, I'm going to remove the gauze now." Ricardo nods before feeling the scissors against his skin, holding very still and barely even breathing as the trainer carefully removes the white bandages from his face, leaving smaller patches over his eyes while examining the burns that are visible. "Yes, these are healing nicely," he murmurs. "Once I finish examining your eyes, we'll put cream and fresh bandages over them." Pausing, he then glances over at Alberto, who steps forward to join them. "Are you ready to check your vision?"

"Si," he breathes, following the trainer's directions and keeping his eyes shut as the last of the gauze is removed. When urged to, he opens his eyes slowly and takes in a deep breath, eyes flickering a time or two before resting on Alberto's face just visible over the trainer's shoulder. His lips tremble and he nods, barely hearing the trainer's question. "I- it's... it's blurry, but... si, I can see." He laughs brokenly as Alberto reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, smiling brightly as his ring announcer's head is tilted back and eyedrops are put in his eyes, Ricardo relieved when his vision clears up a little more before the trainer crosses the room to get another bottle of the eyedrops for them to leave with. "El Patron," he sighs as his employer sits down next to him on the cot.

"This is a relief, mi amigo," he says quietly, staring at him. "I had no doubt you'd be fine but it's good to have it confirmed, si?"

He nods, his eyes watery in a way that Del Rio is sure isn't just because of the eyedrops or lights. "I was so scared," he confesses in a low voice as Alberto comfortingly pats his jaw, his own smile a struggle now as he takes in the lingering pain and fright in his ring announcer's eyes. "But everything's going to be ok now."

"That's right, mi amigo." He rests his arm around the younger man's shoulders and sighs as Ricardo leans against him, the two of them listening to the trainer bustling around. "It will all be fine." When their eyes lock, he grins in relief at being able to see his friend's gaze for the first time in what feels like years, squeezing him tighter for a moment. "So he'll be able to accompany me tonight on Raw?" he asks after a few moments, relief only multiplying as the trainer confirms this, bringing the eyedrops and fresh bandages over to them. "Si, everything will return to normal now, mi amigo." He pats Ricardo's chest as the younger man nods against him, his eyes gleaming in relief. He still has much unfinished business with Randy Orton, but for now, he wants to focus on this moment, not lose sight of how close they'd come to losing so much.

"Si, it will," Ricardo agrees, wincing only a little as his burns are tended to, immediately forgetting about his own discomfort when the trainer then turns to check Alberto's, watching closely. Once they're both ready for the day, he sighs. "I suppose I should find Heath and thank him." Del Rio's responding groan makes him laugh.


End file.
